You Belong With Me
by OceanTiger13
Summary: Inspired by "You Belong With Me" by Taylor Swift. Slash, in the form of drabbley things that are supposed to be chapters. T for strong language.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing!!!

Rated T for profanity, alcohol, and suggestivityness...yeah...

Chapter 1

"_You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset…"_

"Gaila, come on, I was just kidding!" comes the muffled voice as I approach the door to my dorm room.

"No! _No_, Jim, I've _had_ it! It's not funny! And until you can stop acting like a goddamn clown and start being serious, you can expect me to avoid you!"

I groan. They're fighting. _Again_. After a long night in the library, it's the last thing I want to be hearing.

The door slides open and Gaila, pulling a shirt over her head, a positively murderous look on her face, storms out past me, almost running into me as she does.

Jim is standing in the doorway, throwing his hands into the air, then letting them rest on either side of his head.

"Gaila," he calls after her in protest.

She flips the bird at him and rounds the corner.

He lets his arms fall in defeat.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"She's being unusually sensitive," he answers, "Maybe it's that time of the month…although there wasn't any blood this time…"

"TMI," I protest, walking past him into the room, flopping down on my bed, dumping my PADD and stylus on the floor and crawling under the covers.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Trying to sleep. I pulled an all-nighter in the library while you and Gaila were 'studying' in here," I grumble, irritably. "Lights."

The lights switch off, and I shut my eyes.

"Bones, it's Saturday. You can't possibly want to just fall asleep for the rest of the day."

"On the contrary, that's exactly what I want to do. Now either be quiet so I can sleep or hit the road."

"I'm going windsurfing in the bay with some friends. Come with."

"Jim, I feel like I'm gonna collapse, ok? Dragging me along won't make things any fun."

I hear his familiar chuckle. "All right," he relents, "But you don't know what you're missing…"

I roll over and glare at him as he lets his sentence trail off and heads towards the shower.

It's right then that I realize that he's not wearing anything but his boxers. It's not the thing you're supposed to notice, really, if you're somebody's roommate and best friend and he's already got a girlfriend…but I did anyways. And he was fucking ripped. That's not something you're supposed to notice either.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"_And she'll never know your story like I do…"_

Friends shouldn't fuck. I've always been a firm believer in this, 'cause it messes up friendships, and tends to turn one of the two friends into a sex toy, or worse. Friends shouldn't fuck. Unless you're inmates, of course.

"It's been a week, Bones…" Jim slurs, "…Whadda I do?"

He's lying on his bed, bending backwards over the edge, staring owlishly at me upside-down, a precariously tipping glass of Romulan ale—courtesy of me—in his hand.

I'm sitting on my own bed, trying to concentrate on his blurry face.

"Wow, thisstuff is potent…" I hear myself say, distantly.

"Imean…" Jim continues on, as if I haven't spoken, "I dunno whadda say to her. How to apologize…you know?"

I ogle the blue liquid in my own glass, squinting at it through the lights in the ceiling. "Technically, our bodies shouldn't be able to metabal…metadle…metabellel…break this stuff down," I manage to say. I take another swig, and the room begins to tip, slowly. "Whoa." I find myself staring at him on normal terms, meaning I must be upside-down too.

"Itss like the time I drove my stepdad's car off a cliff."

"…How's it like that?" In this state, I'm having issues putting two and two together.

"Well, my stepdad was furious…an' I was okay with that…but then I didn't know what to say to my mom once she came home. I felt really guilty." He blinks, twice.

"You drove your stepdad's car offa cliff?" I ask, fuzzily.

"Yeah…"

"Wha'd he do?"

"Threatened to beat the shit outta me."

Even shitfaced drunk I'm a little shocked at how lightly Jim puts that statement—it's like he's inviting me to a garden party with tea and croquet.

"Whahappened?" I ask, thickly.

"He beat the shit outtame."

"Um." It's all I can say, and it's not just the drink talking.

Then Jim speaks.

"Hey, Boness…y'know…thass the first time I ever volun—volenn—volun—the first time I ever told anybody that on purpose," he announces, blearily, sitting up, taking a swig of his drink.

I finish mine, and set my glass down before I drop it and break it. "I'm'onna sleep," I reply, starting to feel the effects of a particularly nasty migraine. "Lights off."

The room dims and my head hits the pillow.

_Friends shouldn't fuck,_ I try to tell myself.

Then I'm out like a light.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"_Walkin' down the street with you in your worn out jeans…"_

It's the next day—late afternoon—and I've got a nasty headache. I'm lucky to have escaped without the customary upchucking that comes with copious amounts of Romulan ale.

Jim isn't so lucky.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, wincing in the sunlight. Why did it have to be sunny in fucking San Francisco, today of all days? I'm standing outside the public restroom in Golden Gate Park, listening to Jim puke.

Breathing slowly, I hear him gag, then vomit, the noise echoing in the empty restroom.

"You ok?" I ask.

"M'fine," he answers, weakly.

I hear the noise of a toilet flushing, then a stall opening and then running water.

Then Jim appears, wiping his hands on his pants. "Electricity's off, and no paper towels," he explains, hoarsely.

"Hmm."

"I may throw up on you."

Despite the situation, I laugh, recalling the day I'd met him, when I'd nearly thrown up on him.

"Do me a favor and never let me drink Romulan ale again," he says, miserably.

"Swear on my ex's collection of heels."

"That doesn't mean anything!"

"When it starts hitting my paycheck it will."

"Ah." This time, it's his turn and he lets loose a slight laugh.

With that, we're walking through the park, trying to enjoy the shady areas and ignore the shrill birdsong and piercing sunlight.

"Goddammit, where's the fog?" I mutter, darkly, "It's San Francisco, for crying out loud."

"Hey…Bones…you know, last night…did I say anything to you…stupid or weird-sounding?"

I blink. _Yes,_ I think, _Well…not stupid, but the way you put it was downright creepy._

I'm not one to brag—much. But I have to say, I'm a damn good liar. Learned from the best—my ex wife. The tricks to a good lie are these: Keep it simple, stick to your story, and include grains of truth where you can.

I shrug at him, nonchalantly. "Now that you mention it, I kind of remember you saying something about your stepdad's antique car, but I think the drink wiped out everything else."

Jim frowns at me, scrutinizingly.

When I said I'm a good liar, I meant I'm good at lying to people who aren't Jim. The guy's practically a human polygraph. It's ridiculous.

"You sure you're not just giving me the benefit of the doubt so I'm not embarrassed?" he queries, shrewdly.

Dammit, he's got me. The problem is he's a good liar too, and it takes one to know one.

I surrender. "You told me you drove it off a cliff and then got the shit beaten out of you."

His next expression is a curious one—surprise. I was expecting anger, sadness, passive-aggressive-ness…but not surprise.

And certainly not relief, of all things.

Puzzled, I keep my mouth shut about it, and Jim doesn't seem to notice. In fact, he looks almost happy.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"_And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town…"_

It's another week later, and Gaila and Jim are back together, dancing out on the dance floor of a loud pizza bar in the middle of town, all smiles.

All's well that ends well.

I'm sitting on the opposite side of the room, in a dark corner near the bar, nursing a glass of the famous Slusher Mix.

_You're fucking jealous,_ a voice in my head says.

_No, I'm not,_ I think, angrily.

_You wouldn't be drinking yourself under the table if you weren't._

_I'm not jealous of that redheaded bitch._

_You're completely in denial._

_I'm not jealous._

_Then what is it?_

_I'm __not__ jealous. Not, not, not._ I sound like a goddamn child. Dammit.

I slam the rest of my drink and order my usual poison, watching Jim and Gaila dancing along with all the other couples on the floor.

It's gonna be a long night.

I wake up to find Jim tapping me on the shoulder.

"Bones," he says, "Bones. Wake up."

I lift my head off my arms to see his blurry face swimming before me.

"Hey," I croak.

"Hey, man. Usually it's me having to be dragged away from the booze. You've outdone yourself."

Somewhere in my messed up excuse for a brain, I recognize his tone as sympathetic.

"Come on," he says, "Let's get you home."

Slowly, I node, and get out of the booth, standing dizzily. I try to take a step forward and sway dangerously to the right.

"Whoa, careful," Jim cautions, catching my shoulders.

He pulls one of my arms over his own shoulders, and we start off back to the Academy.

All I can remember of the walk home when we arrive is a bunch of people asking if we needed any help, and Jim declining, saying no, we're good.

Straining slightly under my weight, he walks to my side of the room, and sets me down on the bed, none too gently.

"Can't believe I just had to do that. You're the responsible one around here." He smiles, amused.

I turn away, feeling a blush creep up my face for no particular reason.

And then the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"I love you, Jim," I blurt out, turning back to him. It's getting damn hard to focus on his face.

Shockingly, the smile stays in place. He gives a kind of wistful sigh and rolls his eyes. "Go to sleep, Bones," he says. "Lights."

Yawning, I lay down, and am soon out like a light.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"_You belong with me…"_

My no-longer-screwed-up excuse for a brain hurts like hell.

I moan miserably as I sit up in bed, squinting against the light.

A blurry figure is standing across the room, entering.

"Awake, eh?"

The noise is painful.

"Yeah," I say, quietly, "I'm awake."

"You were pretty out of it last night," he informs me.

"I just remember the slusher," I lie.

This time, strangely enough, he believes it. Or at least he pretends to. "You had a lot more than that to drink."

"I'm not surprised. My head feels like it's gonna split open."

Something strikes me then…something off. "What happened to Gaila?" I ask, curiously, "She didn't walk us home, otherwise she'd probably have been pissed at you 'cause I was drunk."

Jim's got this tiny smile on his face. "We dumped one another."

…_What?!_

"What?" I voice my thoughts, totally confused.

"We decided to stop seeing each other," he explains. "It just wasn't working. I think, deep down, we both knew we were just in it for the sex. So we dumped each other. Relatively painless, actually, no yelling, no tears, no scene…I got off easy."

"…Oh."

"Bones, are you okay?" he questions, looking genuinely concerned.

"Aside from being hung over, I'm fine," I mutter, sarcastically.

He smirks. "Now I can tell you're getting better. You're sounding more and more like yourself already."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." I reach for my med kit and extract a bottle of painkillers, popping two of the pills.

"Hey Bones," he begins, "Last night, you told me something, and I don't really know if you remember it or not, but I think I've been thinking the same thing."

"Tell me what you're thinking and I'll tell you if that's what I said."

I sincerely have no clue what he's talking about. He can't possibly be about to say what I think he's going to say, so I have no idea what he's going to say. This is getting confusing.

"I get it if this is kinda weird, but…I think I'm in love with you, Bones."

If shock is measured by a scale, this would have to be a ten.

No. An eleven.

"I meant what I said," I say.

"You just didn't think I'd be thinking the same thing."

"No."

Jim shrugs, taking a seat next to me. "Well," he says, "great minds think alike."

Then, I don't even know how, we're kissing, the whole damn nine yards, and embracing one another as well.

Jim's hands, the horny bastard, are sliding down my back, sending shivers down my spine, and mine are around his neck, my fingers twisting in his hair.

I separate my mouth from his for a few seconds, trying to speak. "I need air, you know."

He kisses me again, murmuring, "No, you don't."

"Do you have a medical degree?"

"I hope you don't have plans for today because you're going to have to cancel them," he tells me.

Shortly afterwards, I'm on my back, trying to multitask—kissing Jim and pulling his shirt off at the same time is not an easy thing to do. Luckily, I get a little help when he decides to sit up and start stripping.

"Don't worry," I reassure him, "I have no plans, and I'm perfectly content to stay right here."

"Good," he answers, and then his lips are pressed against mine once again.

"_You belong with me…_

_You belong with me."_

FIN


End file.
